


Corporal Punishment

by alexis (of_too_minds)



Series: Belonging [2]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M, PWP without Porn, Slash, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 13:00:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1173370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/of_too_minds/pseuds/alexis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "Eliminating the Competition". John’s been a naughty boy. It’s up to Jack to punish him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corporal Punishment

**Author's Note:**

> AN1: This ficlet came about because of a throw-away line in my TW drabble “Eliminating the Competition” [Jack sent him from the room to wait in the hall like a naughty schoolboy. (And didn’t that image have potential?)]
> 
> AN2: Let’s pretend Jack actually let John stay at the end of Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, kay? ;)

A soft knock at the office door broke Jack’s concentration. A quick glance at the clock showed that John was five minutes early. Typical. He never did have much in the way of patience. Jack smirked and went back to writing his “official” report on The Blowfish Incident.

 

Ten minutes and several muted and rather unflattering comments from the hallway later, Jack signed the report with a flourish and laid down his pen. “John Hart,” he called imperiously.

 

John stuck his head through the door. “You summoned me!?” he announced petulantly.

 

“I did,” Jack replied calmly. John muttered something insulting under his breath in response. Jack frowned in disappointment. “Do you really think that’s an appropriate way to speak to your Headmaster, Mr Hart?”

 

John’s eyes lit up. He quickly ducked his head to hide his mischievous smile. “No, Sir. Sorry, Sir.”

 

Jack grinned to himself. John could always be counted on to play along. One of the (many) reasons he made such a good wife.

 

“Come here,” he said imperiously, pointing to a spot on the floor in front of his desk. “Close the door behind you.”

 

John did as he was bid, dragging his feet as he walked.

 

“Do you know why you’re here?” Jack asked solemnly.

 

John shrugged and shook his head.

 

Jack leaned forward, hands folded on the desk blotter, and waited him out in silence. John would fold first. He always did.

 

Head bent and eyes on the floor, John squirmed uncomfortably, clasping and unclasping his hands behind his back. “Pushed a bloke, didn’t I?” he finally said in a bored tone.

 

“Yes. You did.” The fact that John pushed the guy off the roof of a four-story parking structure was left unmentioned.

 

“Weren’t my fault!” John protested, eyes wide in (attempted) innocence. “Plonker was picking on another bloke, see, and I… um… I, I was doing my civic duty! Yeah. Someone mighta got hurt if I hadn’t done it.”

 

“Someone did get hurt,” Jack pointed out evenly.

 

“Well, yeah. ‘spose so.” John shrugged dismissively. Handy thing, not having a conscience.

 

“I’m disappointed in your attitude, John.”

 

“Sorry, Sir,” John said, bowing his head in shame. Flicking his eyes up, he locked gazes with Jack. “I will try to do better, Sir. Honest.”

 

Jack softened at the sincerity in John’s blue eyes. The other Time Agent would at least  _try_  not to cause trouble. That was all he could ask for. He nodded. Message received, John went back to staring at the carpet.

 

Clearing his throat, Jack got back into the game. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression stern. “We have a zero tolerance policy here at the Torchwood Institute, Mr Hart.”

 

“But Headmaster… I was helping!”

 

“Rules are rules,” Jack intoned. Time for the stick – the carrot would come later. “Five strokes, I think.”

 

“What??” John’s mouth dropped open. “Five strokes for that??”

 

“Hmmm, you’re right,” Jack nodded thoughtfully. “Ten strokes.”

 

“Hey, you can’t do that!” John protested in outrage.

 

“Fifteen,” Jack replied.

 

“That’s not fair!” John wailed.

 

“Twenty.”

 

“Tosser!”

 

“Watch your language, boy,” Jack barked, shaking a finger at a recalcitrant John. “That’s twenty-five strokes you just earned yourself. You want to make it more, keep pushing me.”

 

John opened his mouth to protest again and then seemed to think better of it. Glaring at Jack, he jerked his head in a rough nod.

 

“That’s better.” Jack pulled out a thick wooden ruler with a sharp metal edge.

 

John’s eyes widened. “Hey now, c’mon…!”

 

“Brace yourself against the desk,” Jack ordered.

 

John shook his head and refused to move.

 

Jack stood and rounded the desk, using his greater height to loom over John. The smaller man shrunk back, eyes wide and locked on the ruler in Jack’s hand. Jack suppressed a leer. The fearful act couldn’t hide the excitement gleaming in those blue eyes or the grin playing about those kissable lips.

 

“Brace yourself against the desk, John,” Jack repeated slowly.

 

“Won’t,” John muttered, arms crossed defiantly.

 

Grabbing the smaller man by the shoulders, Jack shoved him hard. John barely flung his hands out in time to catch himself from hitting the desk with his face.

 

“Oi!” he protested, affronted at the rough treatment.

 

Jack just smirked. “Pants down,” he ordered.

 

John shot Jack a mutinous look over his shoulder but complied, his hands moving jerkily at his belt. Soon his pants were bunched around the tops of his boots, exposing his pert bottom.

 

“Good boy,” Jack said approvingly.

 

“Don’t call me that!” John scowled, blue eyes snapping angrily. He had straightened up and half-turned when Jack’s heavy hand shoved him back into position.

 

“Nuh uh,” Jack tsked. “You’re in enough trouble as it is, John, let’s not make it worse.”

 

John huffed. Taking a deep, he braced his arms on the desk and locked his eyes on a spot on the back wall. “Well, get on with it then.  _Sir_ ,” he added spitefully.

 

Jack smiled wickedly in anticipation. He kicked John’s feet apart, spreading his legs as far as the pants around his knees would allow. He had to stop for a moment to admire the view. John looked so pretty bent over his desk, sweet ass stuck in the air, waiting for Jack to hurt him. It was too delicious. Jack burned to abandon the game and just take John right then. He shuddered and forced himself under control.

 

John sighed impatiently and wriggled his bum. He was never good at waiting for things to happen.

 

Jack smirked and struck, putting his back behind the first swing. The ruler made a sharp crack as it connected with the fleshiest part of John’s ass. John jerked at the impact but kept quiet.

 

Jack laid down nine more strikes, evenly spaced down John’s backside from his lower back to his upper thighs. He took a step back to admire as John’s skin flushed pink. “Pretty,” he murmured. His prick was uncomfortably hard and he had to stop to adjust his trousers. A wet patch had already soaked through the material.

 

Peering over John’s shoulder, he admired the sight of John’s swollen and dripping cockhead. They both watched in fascination as precum bubbled out of the slit and slid down the shaft, leaving it slick and glistening.

 

“What’d’ya stop for?” John pouted, prodding Jack with an elbow. “Got things to do, y’know.”

 

The ruler came down five more times in rapid succession, the next one hitting before the pain from the one before had faded. John sucked in a deep breath of air. His knees were weak and his arms trembled against the strain of holding himself still against the blows, but he stubbornly refused to make a sound. Jack had to  _earn_  it.

 

Jack laid his hand on John’s flank. He could feel the faint tremors that shook John’s body. “You’re doing so good,” he crooned. “Half way done.”

 

“Already?” John asked innocently. His biteable lower lip curled into a sly smile. “Lightweight,” he scoffed. “You used to be better at this. Getting old, mebbe?” Jack’s eyes narrowed at the insult. “Make it hurt,” John goaded. “Teach me a lesson. C’mon, you know you wanna.”

 

Jack struck without warning, angling the ruler so the sharp metal edge connected with vulnerable skin. An angry red welt blossomed. Jack eyed it covetously. Four more lines quickly joined it, criss-crossing John’s ass.

 

John gasped and arched into the blows. His ass was burning, the nerves tingling and sparking in the air. He was hyperaware of every inch of abused skin. Electric shocks shot up and down his spine and settled into his cock, making it ache and throb. His balls were drawn up tight against his body, ripe with seed and eager to spill.

 

Jack shoved John flat against the desk with one hand and grabbed his hip with the other, tipping his bum higher to expose the back of his lightly furred balls. He traced around the sensitive sack and along the perineum with the edge of the ruler. John shivered at the dark promise in that light touch.

 

Without warning, Jack dug the ruler into the seam between John’s balls, forcing them to separate. He pushed unerringly against the spot where John’s prostate was hidden inside his body. John gasped and writhed, riding the pain to get to the pleasure behind it. Jack stroked his flank, the soothing gesture in sharp contrast to the pain he was inflicting. Jack twisted the ruler, scoring a line into John’s tenderest skin. John gasped, chanting Jack’s name in a litany. Jack grinned darkly at finally drawing those needy sounds out of John and let up the pressure. Stepping back, he raised his arm slowly, dragging it out, making them both wait for it. John panted heavily, anticipation coiling in his stomach. This was going to hurt  _so_  good.

 

The ruler came down again, four times in quick succession, striking the back of John’s upper thighs and balls. He grunted aloud at each stroke, too turned on now to keep quiet. His cock was drooling copiously, hard enough to punch through the desk in front of him. He laid his cheek against the wood desk, eyes drifting out of focus.

 

Jack stepped between John’s spread legs and leaned forward, his body a solid weight against the length of John’s back. The bulge in his crotch nudged John’s bum. The rough wool fabric of Jack’s pants scratched at John’s wounds,ratcheting up his arousal level. He rocked backwards, pressing his ass into that bulge and teasing them both. Jack nuzzled into John’s neck, breathing in his distinctive scent – male musk, gunpowder, ozone from the rift, and the faint metallic tang of blood. It was a heady mix; a sense memory that reminded Jack of a thousand nights spent fucking and loving this man.

 

John shifted beneath him, dragging Jack back into the present. “One more,” he whispered with a lick to the shell of John’s ear.

 

John nodded shakily in understanding. He closed his eyes.

 

Jack stepped back and aimed carefully. The ruler came up between John’s spread legs, hitting the taut sack full on. John came with a strangled moan, his release pushed out of him by the force of the blow.

 

The ruler hit the floor with a dull clatter. Jack tore his pants open, groaning in relief as his aching cock popped free from confinement. He fumbled for the lube in his pocket and quickly slicked himself up. Prizing John’s ass cheeks apart, he roughly shoved two fingers into his unprepared hole. John grunted and bucked, strong muscles clamping down hard on the intruding digits.

 

“So tight,” Jack marvelled. “How can you still be so tight?” Anxious to feel that constricting heat around his prick, he began to scissor his fingers, loosening the muscles in rough impatient movements.

 

Jack went to add a third finger when John reached behind him and grabbed his wrist. “Fuck me,” he demanded in a rough voice. “Now.”

 

Jack nodded. John always did like to feel the burn. He lined his cockhead up with John’s barely-prepared hole and just held it there for a moment, savouring the anticipation.

 

John bucked backwards, trying to force that hard length into his body. “Fuck me  _now_!”

 

Holding John’s hips steady, Jack thrust home in one long smooth push, burying himself balls-deep in John’s hot channel. Both men groaned aloud. Jack froze, staring in awe at the sight of his cock piercing John’s body. It had been too long since the last time he was in there. He breathed deeply to center himself, more to hold off his own imminent orgasm than to give John time to adjust to the penetration.

 

John rocked his hips impatiently. “Fuck me, Jack!” he whined, wriggling his hips in an effort to get the other man to move.

 

“So impatient,” Jack muttered with a fond grin. He held John’s hips still, gripping hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises. Pulling all the way out, he slammed home again.

 

John whimpered at the pressure as Jack’s pelvis connected with his sore ass. “Harder,” he demanded, the pain sharpening his pleasure.

 

Jack grunted in agreement. Angling his strokes, he aimed for John’s prostate. He knew he found it when John’s muscles clamped down tight and the smaller man moaned.

 

“Oh yeah. Fuck me hard, Jack. I wanna  _feel_  it.”

 

An evil smirk twisted Jack’s lips. “You asked for it, baby,” he warned. Holding that angle he let himself go, pounding hard and fast and rough into that tight willing ass, taking his pleasure from the smaller man.

 

John thrilled to the feeling of being taken and used. No one hit his buttons quite like Jack. He panted heavily, needy grunts forced out of him with every slap of Jack’s hips. He slipped a hand between his body and the desk, hard again from the fucking. Jack knocked his arm aside and took John’s dripping cock in his own bigger hands, striping it hard and fast and twisting his palm up over the crown on every stroke, just the way John liked it, making him writhe and moan.

 

Caught between two delicious sensations, John fucked himself backwards onto Jack’s thick cock and forward into his tight fist. They fell into a rhythm quickly and instinctively, their bodies perfectly in tune as if no time had passed. It was always that way with them.

 

John lost control first and came with a stuttering gasp, spurting his release across Jack’s desk. Jack grunted at the feel of John’s cock pulsing in his hand, his seed spilling over Jack’s fingers and filling the air with a rich salty tang. He milked John’s cock for every last drop, growling with pleasure as John’s channel convulsed and fluttered around his hard prick. Half a dozen thrusts more and he came too, emptying himself deep into John’s body.

 

Legs gave out under the strain and both men collapsed in a messy heap on the floor. John rolled over awkwardly and flopped across Jack, his sweaty face tucked into the curve of Jack’s neck, calm and pliant and sated. He could feel Jack’s heart racing beneath his cheek. His lips quirked into a soft smile, pleased to have had such a powerful effect on the charismatic man.

 

Jack pressed a tender kiss to John’s temple and wrapped his strong arms around the smaller man. John was panting heavily, his hot breath puffing across Jack’s collarbone. Slipping a hand under John’s shirt, Jack ran a soothing hand up and down his spine. John instinctively burrowed into Jack’s embrace (although no doubt he’d deny it vigorously if questioned). That little wriggle made Jack melt a little. John had  _no_  idea what he did to him when he was like this, with all his defences down. How had he  _ever_  thought he could give this man up?

 

~~~

 

Tosh shuddered and collapsed bonelessly into her chair, eyes still locked on the security feed from Jack’s office. She gulped in deep breaths of air, trying to calm her racing heart. She’d never done that before, never came just from _watching_. She glanced around the Hub, cheeks red in embarrassment. No one was paying her the slightest attention, to her great relief for once.

 

A few quick keystrokes and she had a copy to take home. A moment’s pause and then she made another copy. Ianto’s birthday  _was_  coming up soon…

 

~~~

 

“Good boy,” Jack whispered to John, petting him softly.

 

John dug a pointy elbow into Jack’s side, making him yelp. “Don’t call me that!”

 

“No?” Jack asked innocently. “But good boys get rewards…”

 

“Yeah?” John asked. “Like what?”

 

“Next time I’ll let you top.” Jack said.

 

John snorted. “Had your arse before,” he muttered sleepily.

 

“Yeah, but this time I’ll let you kill me while you fuck me,” Jack promised.

 

John’s head snapped up. His eyes burned with anger and need. “Don’t!” he warned in a strangled voice. “Don’t joke about  _that_.”

 

Jack smiled. “I’m not.” He cupped John’s skull in his hands, thumbs stroking those killer cheekbones. John leaned into the caress. His eyes never left Jack’s.

 

“I know you’ve thought about it, John,” Jack whispered seductively. “I can’t die.  _Ever_. You could do  _anything_  to me. I can take it  _all_.”

 

John stared helplessly at Jack, slave to his dark and twisted desires. His cock pressed into Jack’s thigh, rock hard again even after two recent orgasms.

 

“But you gotta behave,” Jack warned.

 

John nodded jerkily, throat too dry to speak.

 

“I mean it, John. No second chances.”

 

“Jack,” John moaned, “oh Jack.” He collapsed against Jack’s broad chest, shoulders trembling with emotion too strong and dark for words. His fingers twisted into Jack’s shirt, desperately clinging to the immortal as if afraid he might bolt.

 

Jack just smiled and cradled his John close.

 

 

 

 

FIN

 


End file.
